


Five times Sylar didn't kill Luke (and One time he did)...

by psychi



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Epic Roadtrip That Never Quite Happened, M/M, Psychopaths In Love, Sex & Violence, Shitty Hotel Rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychi/pseuds/psychi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the title says.  Takes place after "Building 26" and written around that time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times Sylar didn't kill Luke (and One time he did)...

Luke grew up in an average suburban home, replicated a million times over all across the country for the sedated, average and oh so boring masses.

He didn't belong there.

“I want to come with you,” Luke demands out on the dusty street.

Sylar kind of wants him to, and then he remembers Elle's lifeless body lying on the sandy beach. With him it always ended more or less the same way.

"No."

***

They're in a hotel, it's half past two in the morning and Sylar wakes up to Luke sprawled on top of him. His skin's wet and clammy and overheated from the contact and every inch of Luke is pressing into his body.

Sylar contemplates flinging him into the nearest wall, but settles for rolling him over to the other side of the wide bed. He's just closed his eyes again when Luke starts snoring softly and smothering the boy is become a serious possibility.

Sylar rolls over to face him, props himself up on his elbow and looks down on the boy. Luke doesn't stay on his side of the bed for long and after a few minutes, he's snuggled back up against him.

Sylar smooths Luke's hair back gently before running his hands through it, getting a tight grip and yanking backwards hard.

Luke half screams and half moans, suddenly very much awake.

Sylar leans in just a bit closer and whispers in his ear, “I'm having a hard time figuring out why I haven't killed you yet.”

Luke swallows hard before answering. “I can help you find your dad.”

“No.” Sylar shakes his head. “I could get that out of you at any time and leave you begging me to kill you.”

He caresses Luke's face gently with his other hand. “I could take you apart piece by piece until you couldn't bear the thought of living so completely broken.”

Sylar traces the line of Luke's neck, then rests it gently on the boy's chest. Luke's heart's pounding.

“Afraid?”

“No.”

Sylar's a little surprised to hear truth in Luke's answer despite his ragged breathing and the tension in his body. The incongruity’s intriguing.

Sylar studies the boy's face in the dark for a while before releasing Luke's head, then pushes him back over to the other side of the bed. “Wake me again and I’ll hurt you.” He closes his eyes and doesn't open them again until mid-morning.

***

It wasn't his mom's car – they'd ditched that a while back. No, it had to be a vintage 1972 Camaro. Shiny and red and prettier than Luke by far.

Sylar was barely able to create a protective bubble before the semi-truck slammed into them. Once they slid to a stop, he wrenched open the bent metal enough to get out of the vehicle.

“Are you alright,” a red-faced, heavy-set man with a strong onion smell shouts as he runs up to them. “Holy shit, look at your car.”

Sylar glances back at the wreckage and then to Luke, quirking an eyebrow out of irritation.

“Sorry. Didn't see the stop sign,” he says, apologizing more to Sylar than the other driver.

“I'm just glad you're alright. It's a miracle you survived that at all,” the trucker says.

Sirens start blazing in the distance.

“Come on,” Sylar growls at Luke before dragging him away from the crash scene.

“Hey, wait a minute,” the trucker yells. “You gotta stay until the cops get here.”

Sylar flings the man back into the bent grill of his truck hard enough to insure he won't be an eye witness.

***

“Next time I wake up to the sound of screeching metal and the smell of leaking gas, I'm letting you die on principle.”

***

It takes Sylar and Luke three months, five days, and 42 hours to find the son of a bitch that sired Sylar and only one day for Luke to fry him to a crisp. Sylar thinks that maybe he should be a little more irritated, but paying attention to what he should do or be or feel never paid off for him before.

“I can explain,” Luke stammers.

“Don't worry about it.” Sylar tosses him Samson's keys. “Let's get out of here.”

At least they had another car.

***

Luke's bleeding to death and there's not a damned thing Sylar can do about it because he doesn't have healing abilities. Sylar's already torn the agent apart violently and there's nothing left that he can do.

“Take my powers,” Luke sputters through blood.

Sylar just shakes his head.

“Do it. I'm dying anyway.”

“Maybe I don't want to.”

“I want to be with you,” Luke says. His voice is fading and weak. “If you do it, I'll always be with you.”

Luke's heartbeat is slowing down and his breathing is shallow. Sylar nods, more to himself now than anyone else, and draws his invisible knife as quick as possible across the boy's forehead.

Sylar feels the power pouring into him like a wave of heat and energy. He finally understands how Luke's ability works, but there's always been just a little more to him and the two of them. Realization hits him and the world lights up just a little more when he's done, then dims suddenly.

He wipes at his wet cheeks and then closes Luke's eyes when another flash of light overtakes him and the world blurs.

“I want to come with you,” Luke demands out on the dusty street.

Sylar takes a moment to adjust to the change in reality. He usually hates it when others do something to reset the timeline, but this time he doesn't really mind. “You've got the keys. Might as well crash your mother's car as well,” he tells him.

Sylar walks over the blue compact car, unlocking the doors on his way. Luke looks confused for a minute before following him to the car, getting into the driver's seat and starting the engine. Sylar closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. “We're driving to Canada.”

“But your Dad's not there.”

Sylar shrugs. “Changed my mind.”


End file.
